


find rest

by gdgdbaby, insunshine



Series: the small world you call your own [2]
Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Coda, Fluff, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-22 15:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17062562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gdgdbaby/pseuds/gdgdbaby, https://archiveofourown.org/users/insunshine/pseuds/insunshine
Summary: "Did I steal the covers again?" Ronan asks, low and gravelly. "Sorry, you know how I get when it's been a while since I've had someone spend the night."





	find rest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sonni89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonni89/gifts).



> hi sonni! happy birthday, we hope you enjoy this little ronan/lovett coda to the massive commune fic. ♥ thanks to cj for looking at this for us.

The first thing he notices when he wakes up is that half of his body is freezing. Lovett's eyes are crusted over and heavy with sleep, but even moving just a little reveals there's someone sharing his bed, and also that that person is a cover-hog.

It has to be Tommy. Jon is the kind to cuddle, to octopus in sleep instead of curling the blankets around himself. Lovett yanks, feeling for the edge with his eyes still closed, all the while praying that Pundit opted for her dog bed on the floor by the door instead of the mattress. He's not sure of the time, but even if it's not as early as it seems, he doesn't want to wake her.

"Fuck," he groans, when there's no give on the blanket. "Tommy, stop being a blanket hoarder. Jesus, give me a little."

He whacks on a shoulder that's softer than he's used to, and then time is moving faster, his heart is thudding harder, because that's not Tommy. It can't be.

"Fuck," Lovett says, the syrupy pleasure of shocked surprise sliding through his veins like a drug. He'd forgotten that Ronan had nearly fallen asleep in the bathroom as they'd brushed their teeth together last night. That Lovett had had to help Ronan tug his clothes off and change into softer ones, that they'd barely made it to the bed before passing out.

Ronan is only just starting to move, hair flopping over his forehead as he blinks his eyes open and quirks a grin. 

"Did I steal the covers again?" he asks, low and gravelly. "Sorry, you know how I get when it's been a while since I've had someone spend the night."

Lovett could say something. _Should_ say something. Has to, in fact, if he wants the morning to go smoothly. It's just hard, in the face of having everything he's always wanted, to anticipate the right things to say.

"I missed you," he blurts finally. It's sappy and embarrassing, but it's the truth. He burrows beneath the edge of the blankets, rolling on top of Ronan, and ducks his head back down to repeat the words against the exposed skin at Ronan's neck. "Wow, I really fucking missed you, you have no idea."

To his credit, Ronan doesn't say anything pithy or pragmatic. He doesn't say much of anything at all, rubbing the pads of his fingers along the back of Lovett's neck and humming into his hair.

"Sorry I stole all the covers," he repeats after a little while.

If Ronan hadn't already seen him in all the worst and best ways, Lovett is certain he'd feel horrified at how thick his voice comes out. As it is, he sits up a bit and says, "It's okay. You know I overheat sometimes. You were probably just grabbing on to what was available."

"Probably," Ronan agrees. He reaches his hand up, fingers curling against the underside of Lovett's chin. "Let's not do that again, huh?"

"What," Lovett says, a flutter of nerves in his belly. "Invite other people into our bed?"

Ronan's eyes flash. "Are you asking if I'm jealous?" 

Lovett doesn't want to answer, because he doesn't want to know. Except, he already does know. "I know you're not," he says. "I know, Ronan, okay?"

"I just wanted to see it," Ronan whispers. He drops his eyes like maybe that's a confession that requires shyness. "You and Jon, you — you fell in love and all I got was snatches of it. I wanted to be a part of everything."

They have to talk this out in further detail, probably, now that they're physically in the same space. The responsible thing to do would be to text Emily, or maybe get the whole group chat in one fell swoop, and say: hey, we're awake. We're here. Let's work this shit out. 

Instead Lovett darts forward with more focus, shifting forward on his knees, and kisses Ronan right on the mouth. It's soft at first, exploratory, but it doesn't stay that way for long, not with the way Ronan clutches his shirt, plucking at the thin material, pushing it up to get his hands on the Lovett's bare back.

"Fuck," Ronan breathes. "Fuck, I missed you too."

Lovett pulls back a little and says, "Who wouldn't?" but it's too pitchy, the way his voice gets when he can't quite harness it, harsh in the back of his throat. He brushes his mouth across the line of Ronan's jaw, down toward his earlobe. "I'm sorry you missed so much," he continues, quiet, "but I could tell you about it."

Ronan squirms underneath him, fingers pressing into the knobs of Lovett's spine. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he says, blinking past the rising heat in his face. He hitches his hips into the cradle of Ronan's legs, smiles when Ronan gasps. Neither of them are particularly hard yet, but that'll change soon. It's happened before, countless times, countless ways; Lovett knows how to make it happen again. "What do you want me to talk about?"

Ronan hums in his ear, thinking. Lovett weighs him down even more, sinking into the warmth of their blanket cocoon, and leans up to suck at his pulse. "There's so much to choose from," Ronan murmurs. "Where to start?"

"Dunno," Lovett says. "I could tell you about how big Tommy is, or how Jon's mouth feels, or what Emily sounds like when Hanna's got a hand down her underwear." Ronan inhales sharply, and Lovett smiles again. "How Jon's face scrunches up when he comes, how dark Tommy flushes when he's turned on…"

"Tease," Ronan says, rocking up into Lovett's hips. "I wanna see all of that."

"I think they want that too," Lovett says, more confident than he feels. It still feels too new, almost, to say out loud. _They want me. They want you. They want us._ He tucks his face back into Ronan's neck and slides his hand past the waistband of Ronan's briefs, feels out the familiar shape of his dick, hot and heavy against his palm. Just holds him for a moment, squeezing as light as he can.

"Shit," Ronan says. He's rucked Lovett's shirt all the way up to his armpits by now, and Lovett exhales long and loud before he levers up to let Ronan tug it off. Licks his palm before he dives back in, Ronan's hands light on his neck, his shoulders.

"They both fucked me, yesterday," he mumbles, and Ronan's eyes flash. "All three of us, I mean, at once."

"And you didn't record it for me?" Ronan says, too out of breath to be stern.

Lovett licks his lips, jacking Ronan slow, thumb pressing briefly into the slit at the tip of his cock before rubbing back down the length. "Better to see it in person, no?"

"Mm," Ronan says. "You have a point."

"I always have a point," Lovett says, pressing his mouth to Ronan's smile. He tries to sink into it, push everything else out of his head, but it's hard not to think about how they're almost always on a schedule, a deadline. Lovett is all too aware that Ronan has pulled himself from his neverending list of notes and crusades and investigative journalism to be here for him. The next time they have to come up for air, he pulls his mouth away to say, "How long do we have?"

Ronan's lashes flutter. It's gratifying to see how dazed he is when their eyes meet. When he does speak, he says, "I blocked out the whole week, Jonathan."

This is the part where Lovett has something clever or pithy or maybe even sexy to say. Instead of saying anything, he slides back down, skipping Ronan's straining mouth to suck a kiss against his neck. 

He lets himself sink lower. "Take this off," he mumbles, teeth scraping against the cotton of Ronan's white undershirt. They end up pushing it up over his head together, Lovett too impatient to wait. The reveal of all that pale skin is a gift. 

Lovett ducks down and mouths against the soft planes of Ronan's chest, sucking a kiss onto the barely rounded pop of his belly. He could tease this out. They both like a bit of delayed gratification, but instead, he uses both thumbs to push down the waistband of Ronan's underwear and sleep pants.

"I really want to suck you off," he says, suddenly too desperate to make it fancy. "Will you let me?" 

Ronan's eyes ease open. "Please," he says.

After two weeks of wildly new experiences, it feels good to wrap himself in the familiarity of this: the way Ronan arches up into Lovett's mouth, thighs clenching around Lovett's head; the sleepy quality of his groans, rasping up his throat; the particular taste and weight and heat of him against Lovett's tongue. Ronan reaches out to cradle a hand against Lovett's face, thumb rubbing against his ear as he looks down. His breathing picking up, but his gaze still steady. It's happened a thousand times before, but it makes Lovett's stomach kick every time.

He pulls off with a wet sound, exhaling over the head of Ronan's dick. "Thank you, by the way," he says, grinning when Ronan's brow furrows with confusion. "For not yet saying _I told you so_ about this whole situation."

Ronan huffs out a laugh, hissing when Lovett ducks a little to suck at his balls, rolling his tongue against them before he licks back up the shaft. "I didn't do anything," he murmurs, carding his other hand through Lovett's hair. "Well. I just gave you a bit of a push. You did the rest all by yourself."

"I had a couple of assists here and there," Lovett amends, and then takes Ronan all the way down again, holding him in his mouth as Ronan shivers.

It doesn't take much longer after that; he can tell when Ronan's about to come, the telltale twitch of his cock as recognizable as the lines on his own palm. Lovett stays close through it, holding Ronan's hips down and swallowing thickly. His own hips twitch a little against the mattress, erection pushing into the soft bedding. There's no real urgency to the feeling, except that Ronan pulls Lovett's head away and tugs him up the bed to kiss when he's finished, hand pushing past the waistband of his underwear and closing warm and dry around Lovett's dick.

"How'd I do?" Lovett says against Ronan's mouth, smiling again when Ronan snorts.

"I have to give you a performance review for every blowjob now?" he asks, eyebrows rising. "Is that what the Obama bros taught you?"

"They're all about positive reinforcement," Lovett says solemnly. He gasps when Ronan squeezes his fingers a bit tighter, starts rubbing up and down, slow and easy.

"You still got it," Ronan says, indulgent. He tilts his face up to kiss Lovett's nose, the apple of his cheek, nuzzling in like a kitten. The circle of Ronan's hand clenches more when he nudges Lovett onto his back and lifts him out past his underwear. "Not that much has changed in two weeks."

And yet, in some ways, everything has. "On a sliding scale," Lovett starts, trying to keep up the bit even as his vision is starting to spark in the corners. Ronan's hands look so delicate, but his grip is sturdy as he moves his fist along the length of Lovett's dick. "You would say that I'm. Fuck. _Fuck_. Where? In skill level, amongst your various paramours?"

The problem, of course, with keeping up a bit, is the very real danger that other people will keep it up too. Ronan stops moving his hand. His product-less hair falls messily — rakishly, even — over his forehead. He flicks it out of his eyes and narrows them.

"What is this?" he says, in a deceptively steady voice. "Do you want me to sing?"

"Sing," Lovett repeats.

Ronan's eyes are twinkling, and he hasn't removed his hand, but he's also not _moving his hand_. "Yeah," he whispers, leaning in, his stubble scraping against Lovett's bare neck. " _Nothing compares to you_ and all that. Want me to woo you with some Prince?"

From far away, it's obvious that his eyes are a vibrant blue. Up close, they're even more electric, especially like this, narrowed with that intoxicating, single-minded focus. "I don't need you to do that," Lovett says, tearing his gaze away and staring blankly at the ceiling. "Save it for our next karaoke party, huh?"

Ronan laughs, curling his fingers up again and leaning down to slot their mouths together, picking up the rhythm with his hand. They kiss for what feels like hours. They kiss for what feels like _days_ , and every time Lovett gets close to the edge, Ronan stills his fist again, leaving him panting.

"Are you punishing me?" Lovett whines, dropping his head back to force the words out through his teeth.

"Punishing you?" Ronan says. "No. I just want to be your favorite too." 

"I think you know that you are," Lovett says, breathless. Ronan grins with teeth and leans in again, scraping his teeth against Lovett's bottom lip. It takes less than five more twists of his wrist and Lovett's coming, streaking thick and heavy between them.

Ronan wipes his messy hand on the sheets and then cleans Lovett's belly off with a tissue from the nightstand. He drops his arm down, squeezing Lovett's shoulders before pressing a tender kiss to the side of his head. "I suppose we should get up now," he says, but he doesn't make a move.

"I suppose we must," Lovett agrees. He snuggles down into the mussed sheets instead, tugging Ronan's arm tighter around himself. "Or," he says, "we could enjoy luxuriating in bed for once. No deadlines, no responsibilities. All our people are here. They can wait on us a little longer."

"Guess my thesis will have to wait, too," Ronan says, sounding sleepy again, and laughs when Lovett yanks his hand up to bite at his knuckles.

"I'm putting a moratorium on all work discussions of any kind," Lovett grumbles.

"I'll allow it," Ronan says into Lovett's shoulder. Lovett can feel the shape of his grin against his skin.


End file.
